


Waking Up in Vegas

by mariposaroja



Category: Football RPF, Spanish NT RPF
Genre: Crack, M/M, Vegas, la seleccion style, marriage fic, set a couple of seasons ago, very loosely based on the hangover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>La Selección go out for a quiet few to celebrate a win against the USA in Las Vegas, except the morning after they figure out that things didn’t really go as they had planned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun idea I had two years ago and now that it's finished I decided to post it here as well as Livejournal. Hope you like!

Cesc groaned as was rudely awoken by his alarm clock at god only knows what hour in the morning. The sunlight coming in the window made his head hurt and he squeezed his eyes shut again. He was a complete mess, that was for sure but the strange thing was he didn’t even know how that happened. The whole of La Selección had been in Las Vegas for a friendly against the USA and they had won considerably. To celebrate, the team went out for a few drinks and to take in the wonder that is Las Vegas, but it evidently turned into more than that. Whatever happened after they left the hotel Cesc had no recollection of whatsoever.

It took him a minute for him to realise that his alarm clock was still sounding and that it wasn’t just his throbbing head. Cesc just wanted to curl up and die as he stretched his arm out to grasp the offending object. He kept his eyes open long enough to disable the alarm. After doing so, he tossed his phone down on the bed and was more than a bit surprised when it hit something with a thud; even more so when that something groaned...


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesc finds out who the mystery person is and gets an even bigger shock

Cesc’s eyes widened in horror but he tried not to completely overreact. There had to be a logical explanation for why there was someone sleeping in the bed next to him. Maybe they had just fallen asleep while talking or drinking? He carefully lifted up the covers and that explanation immediately went out the window; he was completely naked and in bed with someone. This wasn’t good.

Cesc was too afraid to turn his gaze to the right to find out who it was in his bed. What if it was just some random girl or guy depending on what mood he had been in the night before? He could handle that. Probably. Maybe. He finally sighed; there was only one way to find out...

He turned his head with his eyes squeezed tightly shut and eventually opened one of them a fraction. Yep, it was definitely a guy. His back was clearly visible while everything from the waist down was covered. Cesc finally opened his other eye to try to ascertain who it really was- if he even knew.

The man was lying face down so all he could see was his muscular back and tousled dark hair. That wasn’t much to go by. The man didn’t have any distinctive tattoos or anything. Cesc thought hard about what he was going to do next and decided that it was the only choice. He wasn’t going to just leave and do the walk of shame; this was his room, so he gently shook the other man in an attempt to wake him.

He groaned and pulled Cesc’s pillow over his head. The man stayed like that for a few seconds before bolting upright in surprise. Who was in the bed with him? “Who are-“ he began as but stopped dead when he laid eyes on the other man. Cesc was just as shocked, if not more so.

“ ** _Cesc?!_** ”

“ ** _Iker?!_** ” they both simultaneously exclaimed and Iker fell off the bed in shock, hitting the ground with a loud thud. He groaned and pulled himself up off the floor again.

“ _What the hell are you doing in my bed?_ ” Iker demanded, completely astounded.

Cesc frowned. “Your bed? This is  _my_ room!”

The Madridista grimaced. “Look around Cesc, like you could ever be this organised.”

The other man did so and had to agree that his captain was right. His room would never be that clean. It screamed Iker Casillas. “Okay so maybe it is your room but that still doesn’t explain why I’m here... naked!” Iker gave him a knowing look. Cesc’s breath hitched. “We didn’t... did we?”

The older man shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I can’t remember anything that happened last night.”

“Me neither. What the hell happened?” Cesc demanded.

Iker actually smiled. “We obviously had a great time, shame we can’t remember-“ he said but stopped when his leg touched off something underneath the covers. He knew almost immediately what it was. “I think I have an answer to your earlier question...” Cesc looked at him in confusion as Iker picked something slimy up off the sheets and held it up.

“ _We did!_ ” Cesc squealed as the other man held up a used condom. The younger man quickly got off the bed to collect his clothes but gasped due the sudden pain he felt from moving. “Ah! What the hell did you do to me last night? I can barely walk!” he said indignantly.

Iker just burst out laughing. “We obviously had a good time by ourselves too.”

Cesc scoffed. “Speak for yourself! How am I going to be able to play against Argentina in three days? God, Messi would just  _love_ that wouldn’t he?” he said bitterly as he pulled on his boxers and jeans.

Iker stayed where he was on the bed. “Francesc, maybe we should talk about this. I mean... we had sex!”

He continued searching for shirt to act normal but Cesc felt different, very different. Not in a bad way... well depending on what way one looks at it. “Look Iker, we don’t need to talk about it. We did have sex, yes, but it’s not like there’s anything to talk about. It’s not like we actually remember enough to even be able to talk about it.”

The Madridista’s face fell. “Oh, okay. I guess you’re right.”

“I am. Have you seen my phone?”

Iker searched the sheets and found it fairly quickly. He handed it back to the other man.

Something occurred to Cesc. “What state do you think the others are in? Did they all go out last night?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Andrés and Xavi stayed in if I remember correctly. Llorente too.”

Cesc chuckled. “Of course. They always have a stick up their ass about going out.”

“People say that about me too,” Iker said quietly.

The midfielder smiled. “Well that’s obviously not the case us it? Cause I’m pretty sure you loosened up a lot last night.”

Iker grinned. “Oh I’m pretty sure that was you,” he teased and Cesc grimaced at the euphemism as he pulled on his shoes. “Well judging by your saddle walk, I’m sure that was you.”

Cesc stuck out his tongue. “And who’s fault is that? Are you coming down for breakfast?” he wondered as he stood up and began heading for the door, leaving Iker feeling a bit empty even though he would never admit it.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m just going to get showered and dressed and get my thoughts together and then I’ll head down.”

The younger man nodded. “Yeah, showering is probably a good idea. I feel a bit... sticky.”

Iker smiled lightly and looked down bashfully at his hands. After a few seconds something caught his eye. Something that hadn’t been there the night before. He nearly choked on air and began coughing.

Cesc looked at him with concern. “Iker, are you alright?”

The captain shook his head. “You might want to examine your hands.  _Very_ carefully...”

Cesc did as instructed and immediately saw what Iker had been talking about. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!!”


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the night before for Sergio and Fernando...

Sergio woke the next morning with a smile on his face and in the arms of Fernando. That was nothing unusual. Whenever they were on Spain duty, they always slept in the same bed to make up for the time they spent apart with their respective clubs. Sergio loved the time they spent together with La Selección as it meant that he and Fernando didn't have a long distance relationship all the time. They got to spend every moment together.

Sergio was actually surprised that he didn't have a massive headache. He wasn't really one for hangovers but from what he could remember, they had drank a lot the previous night. 'One drink' in a bar beside the hotel turned into about ten in various locations. It was a miracle that they didn't get busted by Del Bosque. Or maybe they did... Sergio shrugged, either way he didn't remember.

Fernando began to stir next to him and eventually the blonde opened his brown eyes. It was immediately clear that he was far worse for wear than his boyfriend.

"Morning sunshine," Sergio smiled and kissed him.

Fernando groaned. "I hate the way you don't get hung over. I mean how can you be that bubbly and not get hung-over? It's not fair!"

Sergio laughed. "It's a gift."

Fernando closed his eyes again sleepily and put his hands around the back of Sergio's neck. It didn't take him long to realise that something was different and he quickly opened his eyes again. As soon as he did his suspicions were confirmed and he gasped.

Sergio's face fell when he say the change in the older man's expression. "What?" he wondered, worried.

Fernando bit his lip and sat up. "Em, well... I... you... see for yourself..." he said and lifted his boyfriend's hand and placed it on his head.

Sergio looked confused at first but what he was feeling suddenly registered and his eyes widened in horror. "Nando!" he squealed as he rubbed his hand over his now short hair, "What the hell!"

The blonde held up his hands. "I have no idea how that happened!"

The Sevillian scrambled off the bed and raced over to the nearest mirror. He practically screamed at his reflection. "My hair! What the hell happened to my hair?"

Fernando got up and did a little looking around while his boyfriend was freaking out. There was a scissors on the desk so he checked the bin underneath and found what he was looking for. He picked up a long strand of brown hair. "I think this belongs to you..."

Sergio grimaced. "No shit Nando! What the hell happened last night? Why did I cut my hair? This is your fault!"

His jaw dropped. "How is it my fault? You can't even remember what happened last night! It was most likely you."

"Oh yeah-" the Madridista began but stopped when he noticed something else. "Nando... what happened your face?" Sergio wondered, horrified.

Fernando frowned. "Why what's wrong with my face?" he wondered and made his way over to the mirror that his boyfriend had been examining his new haircut in. "Shit! What happened to me?" Fernando wondered in shock as he saw the long line of stitches down the side of his jaw. He ran his fingers along the closed wound and winced.

"What did we do last night?" Sergio asked disbelievingly. Never had one of their nights out ended up with results like that.

The older man shook his head. "I have no idea..." he said and began to count the stitches on his face, " _Seventeen_! I got  _seventeen_ stitches!"

Sergio paled. "We are so dead! Well maybe not me so much, but you, definitely  _you_. There's no way that Del Bosque isn't going to notice that your pretty face is all messed up. Although... I do have a bit of concealer that we could try..."

Fernando looked at the other man incredulously. "Concealer? Really Sergio? I have seventeen stitches and you think that we can hide that fact by putting a "bit of concealer" on it! Like that's going to cover up the fact that I split half my face open!"

"Okay! It was just a suggestion. God, no need to get so worked up about it."

"What part of seventeen stitches don't you understand? How am I supposed to explain that one?"

They were interrupted by a dull yet clearly audible thud coming from the room to the left of them. "Who's in there?" Sergio wondered

Fernando shrugged. "Iker I think."

"Do you think he's alright?" the Sevillian wondered, concerned for his captain.

The blonde rolled his eyes dramatically. "I have seventeen stitches and you're more concerned that Iker tripped over something?!"

"Wait? Tell me again how many stitches you got? Because I didn't hear you the first  _ten_ times! I'm freaking out too Nando! Look at me!"

Fernando scoffed. "You gave yourself a haircut! So what! It will grow back! It's not the end of the world. Do you think anyone will care that your hair is a bit shorter? I have seventeen stitches!"

Sergio sighed, irritated. "Yeah well your cut will heal!"

"Okay, do you know what? There's no point in us arguing. Absolutely none. That's not going to solve anything. What we need to do is get dressed and go find the others to see if they remember anything at all from last night."

He had a point. "Okay let's do that and pray that there was someone sensible enough not to drink all the alcohol in Las Vegas. I really hope everyone else isn't as much as a mess as we are,"

Fernando smiled lightly and kissed his boyfriend. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Yeah as long as someone didn't do something  _really_ stupid..." Sergio pointed out warily.

"I'm pretty sure that with your hair and my fair we'll be the worst out of the lot of them. I mean, it can't get much worse can it?"

Sergio nodded. "Yeah I guess you're right..."


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse for Iker and Cesc

Cesc stared incredulously at the ring on his left hand. There was no way... It couldn't be. They couldn't be that stupid. Iker was supposed to be the sensible one. There was no would he would have let that happen... would he?

He looked up and saw that Iker was doing the exact same. He ran his index finger over the gold band now occupying his wedding ring finger. Iker suddenly looked up at the younger man. "Cesc- I... Are we... Did we...?" he could barely speak.

Cesc nodded reluctantly. "I think we did. Iker we're... married..." he couldn't believe what he was saying. How could they have gotten married? Who would have let them get married? Surely their team-mates would have talked them out of it.

"B-but we can't be  _married_. Come on, that's ridiculous! I mean we only went out for a couple of drinks, how the hell did we come home married? Where did we get married?!" Iker began freaking out.

He gave the captain a disbelieving look. "Iker this is Las Vegas! If I threw a stone out the window now I could hit a registrar!"

Iker nodded. "Yeah, but how the hell did it happen to us? I mean why?"

Cesc threw his arms up. "I don't know! I can't remember anything! All I know is that we're both wearing wedding rings and we fucked last night... in Vegas... it's not looking good!"

"Will you stop freaking out? That's making everything so much worse!"

The younger man scoffed. "I'm freaking out?  _You're_ the one that's freaking out! I'm perfectly calm thank you very much!"

Iker sighed. "Look Cesc, let's not fight over this okay. I think we can skip the showers, we need to find out what the hell happened last night," he suggested and began pulling on his clothes.

Cesc nodded, watching Iker's body intently. "You're right. That's probably the best thing to do..." he suddenly realised something, "Oh my mama is going to kill me!"

"Cesc! What did I just say? No freaking out yet, okay?"

The younger man somehow felt so reassured by Iker's words. "Okay. I promise I'll try not to freak out."

Iker looked up at Cesc while he was tying his shoe laces and smiled thankfully.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was awkward to say the least. What does one say to the man that he drunkenly married last night completely out of nowhere? Iker finally spoke up trying to ease the tension. "So where do you think we got the rings?"

It didn't help. Cesc shrugged. "I have no clue. Probably wherever we actually got married? I don't know. I don't really have much experience with spur of the moment drunken weddings."

Iker smiled at that. The younger man was always so cute. He immediately stopped that thought in its tracks. With all that was happening it wasn't good to think like that.

It became even more awkward when the elevator stopped on the fifth floor and three women in their early twenties got in wearing clothes that didn't leave much to the imagination. Neither Cesc or Iker knew where to look; they didn't want to look at each other but they didn't want to make eye contact with the girls either.

Unfortunately one of them had other ideas. She flipped her long dark hair and smiled 'seductively' at Cesc. "Well aren't you just the cutest thing?" she said in a Southern accent. "Where are you from?"

Cesc cast a glance at Iker who was trying his hardest not to smile. "Spain," he replied.

The three girls exchanged excited looks. "Oh my god! You're from Spain? That is so cool! Say, would you like to maybe have a drink with us tonight? Your friend can come too."

For a moment he had no idea what to say but something came to him soon enough. He held up his left hand clearly displaying the wedding ring. "Sorry, I'm married."

That didn't seem to deter them. "Your wife doesn't need to know?"

Iker decided to intervene. He placed his arm around the younger man's waist and smiled. "Actually it's husband." Cesc was surprised but decided to go along with it.

Their eyes widened. "That is so hot," one of the two blondes said.

The other fair girl nodded enthusiastically, "Say would you mind-"

Mercifully at that moment they reached the ground floor and the doors opened. Iker and Cesc stepped out into the lobby only to find that Alba and Llorente had just gotten out of that elevator next to theirs.

"Cesc, Iker! You guys going to get breakfast?" Llorente wondered, being unbearably cheerful for their delicate states that morning.

Cesc nodded. "Yeah, though I don't know if I'll be able to keep anything down," he replied as they began to walk towards the restaurant.

"You guys feeling as rough as me?" Jordi wondered with a grimace.

Iker chuckled. "You have no idea. You don't happen to actually remember anything that happened last night, do you?"

The defender shook his head. "Not really, which obviously means that we had a great time, so I'm not stressing it. I'm still in one piece."

Llorente looked Cesc up and down. "Why are you walking like that?"

Alba frowned. "Like what?" he wondered, looking back at the midfielder.

The striker laughed. "Like he just got off a horse!"

Cesc blushed and exchanged a look with Iker. "Don't ask."

"You guys are acting weird. What happened?" Jordi wondered suspiciously.

Iker frowned. "You'll find out soon enough. Wait until we get into the restaurant. It might be best if you're sitting down..."

Fernando and Jordi exchanged a curious look. "It must be good! I'm looking forward to this."

They entered the restaurant and the host smiled at them. "Good morning. We've set up a large table by the window for you all if you will follow me please," he said and began leading them through the restaurant. They all sat down at their designated table and Llorente and Alba were practically bouncing up and down with anticipation.

"Do you want to tell them or will I?" Iker asked Cesc with a sigh.

Cesc was answering before the Madridista even finished asking the question. "You. You're the captain, you've got this way with words..."

Iker rolled his eyes fighting a smile. "Okay, you guys aren't going to believe this..."


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La Roja assess the damage caused by their night out

Apologies if this chapter gets a bit confusing... (you'll know what I'm talking about when you get there!) Hope you enjoy!

 

 “You what?!” Llorente exclaimed in complete and utter disbelief after Iker broke the news of their marriage.

Jordi just stared at his team mates incredulously, unable to believe what he had heard.

They couldn’t have just announced that, could they? “You’re kidding me. No this is a joke. Good one guys, you actually had me going there for a minute.”

Cesc grimaced. “Yeah, because Iker of all people would joke about something like that!” he said with a bitchface that would rival that of David Villa.

Iker hit his husband’s(?) arm. “Hey!”

“Sorry Iker. Look!” Cesc held up his left hand and the captain followed suit so that their matching wedding rings were in clear view, “I woke up in Iker’s bed this morning!”

A smile appeared on Llorente’s face. “Oh so that’s what’s with the saddle walk! Iker you minx!”

The goalkeeper rolled his eyes, irritated. “I don’t think you two seem to actually grasp the fact that Cesc and I are married! Legally! We’re  _husbands_!”

“…Well when you put it that way-“ the striker began but his room-mate wasn’t going to give him the chance to finish his sentence.

“How the fuck did we let you get married?! I mean we were all fairly wasted but letting two of your team-mates get married is a bit over the top!” said Jordi, still in shock.

Fernando shrugged. “It’s not that much of a shock really, you two have been like lovesick puppies for months!”

Cesc gasped. “We have not!”

“You have! Trust me, we’re the ones that had to put of with all the mushiness!” the striker insisted.

Iker decided to ignore that. “A bit over the top? You think?” he said sarcastically.

“Whatsh a bitsh over the top?” David Villa wondered with a lisp as he and Silva sat down at the table.

Llorente shrugged. “Apparently Iker and Cesc got hitched last night and they’re trying to pretend that they’re both not secretly happy. I really wish I was there now!”

Both Iker and Cesc looked at each other in horror. “ _Fernando_!” they shouted simultaneously.

Villa and Silva exchanged a shocked glance. “You two got married?!”

Iker grimaced. “Apparently so. And please speak a bit louder! I think there may have been someone back in Madrid that didn’t hear you!” he chastised them.

“Do you two remember anything at all that happened last night?” Cesc wondered desperately.

Silva shook his head. “Not really. It’s all very fuzzy. I guess we all did stupid things last night…”

Villa nodded. “Yeah, look,” he said and stuck out his tongue to reveal a silver piercing.

Fernando laughed. “I was wondering why you were talking funny!”

The Barcelona striker shrugged. “At leasht it’sh not ash bad as Shilva’sh!”

Silva’s jaw dropped and he elbowed his boyfriend. “David! Shut up!”

Cesc couldn’t help but smile. “You didn’t…”

“Oh he did! It even hurtsh to look at it,” Villa teased.

Iker rolled his eyes. “As much as I love hearing about Silva’s private piercings, you seem to be forgetting that Cesc and I are married! And we don’t know where or when or by whom!”

Everyone fell silent. “… Yeah that could be a problem…” Llorente piped up.

“You think!”

“Well let’s look at it this way, you were most likely married by Elvis so that’s the who sorted!” Fernando informed them.

Iker clenched his jaw. “I am going to kill him.”

Alba thought of something. “What are you going to tell the boss?”

Cesc shrugged. “I have no idea.”

The captain was about to say something but completely lost his train of thought when he saw Sergio and Fernando approach the table.

He was not the only one stunned by the altered appearances of the pair. “We are in so much trouble,” Jordi said plainly.

“Torresh! What the hell happened to your fash?” Villa questioned him though his speech was hardly decipherable.

Fernando frowned. “I have absolutely no idea. What happened to your speech?”

“Tongue piershing.”

Cesc knitted his eyebrows together. “And Sergio?”

The previously long-haired Sevillian just shook his head. “Don’t talk to me about it.”

Silva was beginning to freak out. “Guys we seriously need to do damage control! I don’t know what exactly happened last night but between us we’re pierced, shorn, stitched- as a matter of interest how many stitches did you get Nando?”

“Seventeen!” the blonde replied and Sergio rolled his eyes.

Silva nodded. “Stitched and married! All in one night!”

Both Sergio and Fernando’s jaws practically hit the floor. “What? Who got married?” Sergio wondered, exasperated.

“Iker and Cesc, “ Jordi, Llorente, Silva and Villa replied at the same time in a tone that made it seem like old news.

Torres bit his lip. “Shit.”

Cesc chuckled. “You can say that again!”

“Sho, of everyone that went out lasht night, Piqué, Álvaro and Sh- chab-“ Villa struggled, “ Alonsho are the only onesh left to resurfash?” he tried to remember everyone that had been involved in the previous night’s shenanigans.

“And Mata, he was definitely there too.” Alba piped up.

The Barcelona striker nodded. “Rightsh and Mata.”

“And no-one can remember a thing that happened after the hotel last night?” Iker asked and everyone shook their head.

“Okay,” Torres began, “What we really need to do now is find the clothes we were wearing last night and try to find any hints as to where we might have went. Especially in the case of Fabsillas-“

Iker and Cesc’s eyes widened. “Of  _who_?”

Nando smiled. “See you already know what each other is thinking! Just stay married, it will be fine!” he half-joked, “Me and Sergio are Sernando, Fabsillas is your couple name!”

“But we aren’t even a couple!” Cesc pointed out.

Sergio arched an eyebrow. “You’re married, if that’s not a couple then I don’t know what is.”

Sensing a fight could break out, Llorente decided to intervene. “I think what Nando is trying to say is that our main priority should be Iker and Cesc’s marriage. We are leaving for Buenos Aires at six o’ clock tonight…”

Silva nodded. “Right, Llorente, stay here. Everyone else quickly go up to your rooms and bring anything with any possible relation to last night down here so we can sort this shit out.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions mount as more revelations are made

When everyone arrived back down to the restaurant, Piqué, Xabi and Mata were sitting down at the table along with Llorente. “How bad is it?” Silva wondered warily as they retook their seats.

“Horrible! That’s how bad it is. Completely disastrous!” Piqué exploded and Mata, Xabi and Llorente all struggled to keep a straight face.

Xabi shrugged. “Well I can’t find my phone but other than that I seem to be unscathed, unpierced and, drumroll, unmarried,” he was more than a bit amused at the misfortunes of his team-mates.

Mata nodded. “Me too.” He considered himself very lucky that he hadn’t done anything stupid… well that he knew of anyway.

Gerard grimaced. “Well isn’t that fantastic for you! Look at this! Look!” he said hyperactively and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a very large tattoo with the wording ‘I shag Shakira’ in bold black print on his bicep. They all had to admit that he had reason to be cranky.

“Now that’s rough!” Sergio conceded.

“Yes, Sergio. Yes it is! I’ll never be able to take off my top again!” the Barca defender said desperately.

Cesc frowned. “You could get it removed…”

Piqué rolled his eyes, irritated. “That’s not the point! I still have it, Francesc Casillas!”

The midfielder was indignant. “What makes you think I took Iker’s last name?”

“What makes you think you didn’t?” Gerard retorted, “You can’t remember! None of us can, that’s the problem!”

Iker decided to change the subject. “Did any of you find anything that could give us some clue as to what happened last night?”

Villa shrugged. “Not much. Jusht a couple of receiptsh for drinksh. We went to a couple of different placesh lasht night.”

“Are you actually going to take that piercing out? Because it’s getting really hard to understand you,” Sergio informed him.

The Barcelona striker grimaced. “I happen to like it.”

The Sevillian arched an eyebrow. “Well you sound like an idiot.”

“And you look like you just had a fight with a lawnmower!”

Sergio gasped and was about to retort but was put off by a livid looking Xavi storming towards the table with Iniesta in tow. “Okay, which one of you is responsible for this?” he demanded.

Everyone present exchanged confused and worried looks. This couldn’t be good. Just what they needed, more drama. Every time they thought they knew of all the damage, something else came to light. It was getting beyond the joke. “Well, you see, that really depends on what you’re talking about… ‘cause it really could have been any one of us…” Jordi informed him.

“Except me!” Llorente reminded him.

Jordi nodded. “Yes, except Fernando.”

Xavi sighed impatiently. “The bus! Which one of you half-wits grafitied that lie on the team bus?!”

There was a resounding groan from the rest of La Roja. This was beyond the beyonds. Just when they thought things couldn’t get any worse…

“Oh god, what did it say?” Iker wondered, worried that as captain the blame would be put on him.

Andrés shook his head disapprovingly. “It says ‘Xavi licks Messi’s arse’ in big writing. I think it’s paint.”

Everyone was silent. “Well it is kinda true…” Nando said what everyone else was thinking.

Xavi made to launch himself at the blonde but thankfully Llorente restrained the small midfielder. They really didn’t need any more casualties. In the midst of all that a ringtone sounded. “Hey everyone quiet! My phone’s ringing,” Jordi told them and examined the offending object. He frowned. “Why would Steven Gerrard be ringing me? Since when do I even have his number?”

Xabi’s head shot up. “That’s my phone! What are you doing with my phone?”

The defender shrugged. “Do you honestly think I know? Here, answer it before it rings out,” he said and tossed the phone in the midfielder’s direction.

Xabi fumbled with it briefly before answering it. “Stevie?”

“Oh look who finally decided to answer their phone! I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all morning!” The Scouser sounded less than pleased.

The Basque frowned. He had obviously done something wrong. “Sorry, I couldn’t find my phone. Things have gotten a bit crazy over here,” a bit was a slight understatement, “What’s up?”

Steven scoffed. “What’s up? What’s up? The fact that you drunk dialled Brendan Rodgers last night might have something to do with it!”

The Basque’s blood ran cold. So much for making it through the night without doing something stupid. He tried not to get ahead of himself for a moment… that didn’t work. “Oh god… what did I say?” his voice nearly went up an octave.

“Like you don’t remember!”

He sighed. “Steven, I’m not lying okay? None of us can remember a thing that happened last night, now tell me what I said! I’m having a panic attack!”

The rest of La Selección watched the midfielder intently, all waiting to see what the damage was.

“Well apparently you rang Rodgers begging him to buy you back for Liverpool because you miss the club and the fans and especially because you want to be able to be with me again all the time,” Steven told him, clearly annoyed and he had more than a right to be.

Xabi couldn’t speak for a moment. True, he had never been that drunk before but even so that didn’t seem like something the ever-reasonable Xabier Alonso would do. “What?” was all he managed to get out.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said when Brendan pulled me aside at training this morning! You outed me to my gaffer! It’s a good thing that he’s a good guy.”

The Madridista felt sick. How could he have done something that stupid? “Steven, I am so unbelievably sorry. What I did was unforgiveable. I-“

“What the hell happened Xabs? Rodgers also mentioned that he overheard something about a wedding. It better have not been yours!”.

Xabi looked around at the various states of his team-mates. “None of us actually know what happened exactly… and yes, there was a wedding but don’t worry, it wasn’t mine…”

“Who’s was it then?”

Iker and Cesc were waving their arms about trying to signal to the Basque to refrain from answering. Xabi hesitated. “I- I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, it’s not my place…”

The Liverpool captain huffed. “Fine, why don’t you call me later when you get your shit together?”

The Basque chuckled humourlessly. “Yeah… that’s if any of us actually survive del Bosque! I’ll talk to you later,” he said before hanging up and purposely banging his head against the table.

“What did you do?” Torres wondered warily.

Xabi groaned. He just wanted to completely forget about it. “ Apparently I drunk dialled Brendan Rodgers…”

Silence. “You complete idiot!"


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave it to Sernando to get things done!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Each - is a switch of scene)

Xabi was telling everyone exactly what Steven had told him when Fernando got a text message from Sergio. He frowned, wondering why his boyfriend was texting him when they were sitting right next each other but opened it anyway.  
  
                _You take Cesc, I’ll take Iker._  
  
The blonde looked at his other half confusion but the defender just gestured for him to write back.  
                   _What are you talking about?_  
  
Sergio rolled his eyes and composed a reply as all the others were occupied by Xabi’s misfortunes. Karma, he thought, for being so smug that he had survived the night unscathed.  
            _They’re married and undoubtedly confused so we need to take_  
 _one each and sort them out._  
  
Again the blonde frowned.  
               _But what are we supposed to tell them? We have no experience with_  
 _ending up married to one of our team-mates…_  
  
         _I know that! But we at least have to try. I mean they need to decide what t_ _hey’re going to do. Personally, I’ll be encouraging them to stay together… Don’t tell anyone this, but I ship Fabsillas. I mean like I read fics about them… all the time…_  
  
Fernando stared at the Sevillian, uncomprehending, and shook his head.  
       _I don’t even know what that means… what should I tell him?_  
  
Sergio’s reply came much slower than the previous.  
           _Just ask him how he feels about the situation and especially about Iker. Advise him based on what he tells you… and make sure that it’s the truth!_  
  
The striker sighed.  
          _Okay…but why do I have to get Cesc? He’s the less rational of the two…_  
  
Sergio rolled his eyes.  
          _Love isn’t rational! Besides, they got drunk and married; I don’t really think one can claim to be more rational than the other. Plus, I’m Iker’s co-captain. We have a bond…_  
  
That was very true, Fernando thought.  
              _Okay, when?_  
  
 _As soon as I give the signal._  
  
After they were informed of Xabi’s drunken mistake, Jordi decided to ask the question that was one everybody’s mind. “So, Fabsillas, what are you going to do?”  
  
Both Iker and Cesc frowned. “I- w-we…” the latter began and Sergio gave Fernando the nod. “Cesc come with me, Iker you go with Sergio,” the Chelsea striker stood up quickly and instructed his team-mates.  
  
Iker arched an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”  
  
Sergio grabbed him by the hand. “You’ll find out when we get there. Now come on. As for the rest of you, try not to do anything stupid while we’re gone… well anything worse than what was already done!” he said before both ‘couples’ left the restaurant.  
  
Cesc exchanged a worried look with Iker as they were practically dragged through the lobby. “What are you going to do to us?” the Catalan wondered, a little bit worried.  
  
Sergio rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, we won’t bite. This is a Sernando intervention,” he told them as Fernando pressed the button to call the elevator. The four footballers stepped to the side a little so as to avoid the possibility of any of the staff or even worse, del Bosque, seeing them. The doors opened soon after and Fernando peered around the corner to make sure that the coast was clear. It was.  
  
The blond gestured hurriedly for them to all get in and they obliged. The atmosphere in the elevator was awkward to say the least. No-one had any idea what to say, least of all Iker who leaned up against the bar with a very pensive expression on his face. Cesc looked in the opposite direction and chewed on his lip. Sernando noted their behaviour carefully.  
  
Everyone was relieved when the elevator finally stopped on Iker’s floor. “Oh good! This is us,” Sergio said before practically pulling his team-mate out of the elevator. It was a wonder Iker’s arm was still left in its socket.  
  
The captain sighed. “Sergio, what is this about?” he asked, placing the room key in his compatriot’s outstretched hand.  
  
The Sevillian opened the door and led him in. He rolled his eyes. “I told you, this is a Sernando intervention!”  
  
“Yes, you’ve mentioned.  _What does that even mean?_ ” Iker’s patience was wearing thin. It had been one hell of a morning.  
  
Sergio arched an eyebrow. “Oh please! Like you seriously don’t know! It may have something to do with the fact that you are married to Cesc. Just a little…” he replied sarcastically, “Now sit,” he practically pushed his team-mate down on the couch, “and talk.”  
  
 -  
“I don’t know what you want me to say!” Cesc insisted.  
  
Fernando rolled his eyes. “I want you to talk about how you feel! Just pretend I’m your therapist.”  
  
“But I don’t have a therapist!”  
The blond nodded. “Yeah and maybe if you did you wouldn’t have ended up married in Vegas to one of your team-mates! Now start talking. How do you feel about being married?”  
  
-   
“I mean it’s a complete shock!” Iker began, “I literally woke up this morning in bed with my ‘husband’. I haven’t even had time to think about how I feel with everything that’s going on around here!”  
  
Sergio nodded. “Okay, so think about it now. It’s not like you have all the time in the world. You either get annulled, divorced or stay together.”  
  
The captain suddenly remembered something. “I have a girlfriend at home!” Sara was going to be so pissed!  
  
The defender tried to find the best way to phrase the question. “What do you want? Forget everyone else; just think about you.”  
  
Iker hesitated.  
  
 -  
Cesc sighed. “What do I want?” he asked rhetorically.  
  
“I’ll rephrase the question; how do you feel about Iker?” Fernando asked patiently. He couldn’t even imagine how confusing this was for them.  
  
The Catalan opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. “I-Iker’s a great guy…”  
  
-   
“I don’t know about me but I do know that Cesc is incapable of talking about anything important. I mean, when we woke up…in bed…together…naked, I suggested that we talk about it and he said, and I quote: ‘It’s not like there’s anything to talk about’.”  
  
Sergio gave a brief incline of his head. “And how did you feel when he said that?”  
  
The captain shrugged. “I don’t know… I mean Cesc…” the faintest of smiles appeared on his lips, “he’s just Cesc.”  
  
That didn’t exactly give the Sevillian the answer he was looking for but he decided to run with it. “Great to see you’re still crushing on Fabregas. That could help the situation.”  
  
“I have never crushed on Cesc!”  
  
-   
“So are you still crushing on him then?” Fernando wondered.  
  
Cesc’s jaw dropped. “I am not crushing on Iker!” he insisted a little too defensively.  
The blond looked at him knowingly. “You had sex with him and married him, not even in that order! If that’s not at least crushing…”  
  
 -  
Iker could take Sergio’s silence no longer. It was just too weird. “Alright! I’ll admit I do like him… as more than a friend…” he finally conceded.  
  
The Sevillian looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh thank god! We’re finally getting somewhere! So do you like him enough to stay married?”  
  
-   
The Barcelona midfielder remained silent for a moment. There were just so many thoughts going through his mind. He had never even confessed that he had a thing for Iker and now he was married to him. Sure, the thought of staying married was mildly appealing but there were so many other factors to take into consideration.  
  
Fernando was genuinely surprised. “You have actually fallen for him, haven’t you?”  
  
Cesc sighed. “He lives in Madrid, I live in Barcelona…”  
  
-   
“He plays for Barcelona, I play for Madrid… How can we stay married if we’re living in two different cities?” This was absolutely crazy. He had feelings for the younger man, there was no doubt about that, but were those feelings a strong enough foundation for a  _marriage_? It was as if he was playing Devil’s Advocate with himself.  
  
Sergio smiled. “So? Look at me and Nando. He left Madrid years ago and we’re still going strong. And it’s not like you won’t see him during Clasicos and national team call ups. You could really see him any time you like. Barcelona isn’t that far away. It’s closer than London.”  
  
-   
“You’ll have the summer and Christmas together. And you’re not going to be footballers forever,” Fernando reminded the culé.  
  
Cesc bit his lip. The striker was telling him everything he wanted to hear and wanted to believe. “I’ve never even told Iker I like him! How are we meant to be married?”  
  
-   
“I must be certifiable but… I might be willing to give it a try. Only if Cesc feels the same way though.”  
  
Sergio beamed. That was exactly what he had wanted to hear. “I know he does. You two wouldn’t just randomly decide to get married if there wasn’t something there. Maybe you just needed the alcohol to give you a bit of a push?”  
  
Iker arched an eyebrow. “A bit? It’s a massive step to take. What happens if things end badly? What will happen to the team? To our friendship? And what about Sara?” he was still confused.  
  
The Sevillian stared at him in disbelief. “You went to Las Vegas and married another man. That should tell you everything you need to know about the Sara situation. As for the marriage… you won’t know if you don’t try. Think about it this way: will you regret not giving it a chance? You’ve got nothing to lose…”  
  
“I’ve got everything to lose. I could lose Cesc…”  
  
-  
“Footballers don’t marry other footballers. We’re supposed to find a pretty girl, one that loves the lifestyle just as much as she loves us, and get married, have a couple of questionably named children and maybe even a dog…”  
  
Fernando scoffed. “Since when do any of La Roja do the expected thing? With us you always expect the unexpected. And the media shouldn’t stop you. It certainly hasn’t stopped Sergio and I or Villa and Silva or Stevie and Xabi…” he smiled, “Do you see what the common denominator is?”  
  
Cesc arched an eyebrow. “At least one of each couple is Spanish?”  
  
“Well I guess you’re right but that’s not what I was talking about. We all live apart. Me in London, Silva in Manchester, Steven in Liverpool... Madrid is much closer. Besides the long distance relationships are loved by the fans.”  
  
“Yeah, because everyone is a sucker for a doomed relationship!”  
  
Fernando rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a cynic Cesc! That’s Iker’s job.”  
  
-   
“So what’s the decision then? Am I going to have to start looking for the perfect wedding gift?” Sergio wondered, confident he had done his job.  
  
Iker bit his lip and smiled.  
  
-   
“I must be completely crazy but… if Iker’s willing to give it a try then so am I. But if it ends badly I’m blaming you!” Cesc said, half joking.  
  
Fernando smiled widely. Another couple united by Sernando. “It won’t, trust me. And I don’t think you have to worry about Iker; this intervention was Sergio’s idea and no-one knows Iker better than him.”  
  
 -  
“I know you so well Iker! I knew you were sweet on Cesc. Thank god this marriage finally gave you the push you need. Fabsillas are official!” Sergio said gleefully. “You know, I’m almost jealous. I mean ‘Fabsillas’ is a pretty great name, second only to ‘Sernando’ of course! I feel sorry for Xabi and Steven… Gerlonso isn’t really that great…”  
  
Iker rolled his eyes. “There aren’t words to describe you sometimes, Ramos,” he teased.  
  
Sergio stuck his tongue out. “Admit it, you wouldn’t have it any other way, Casillas. Or are you going by Casillas-Fabregas? I personally think you should scrap your last names altogether and go by Cesc and Iker Fabsillas.”  
  
Iker grimaced. “I’ll stick with Casillas thank you very much. I don’t exactly want to flaunt the fact that Cesc and I are married…”  
  
The Sevillian huffed. “Why do you have to be such a stick in the mud?”  
  
-   
Fernando and Cesc’s conversation was interrupted by the former’s phone ringing. He checked the caller ID before answering. “What’s up?”  
  
“You’ve got to get down here!” said a very flustered Xabi, “They’ve all gone mad!”  
  
It worried the striker that Xabi, usually the epitome of cool, was panicking. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”  
  
“Make it quick! I can’t handle it by myself!”


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More revelations are made and chaos ensues. Poor Xabi is stuck trying to keep the peace.

Alvaro strolled into the hotel restaurant without a care in the world only to find his team-mates looking very dejected and on-edge. He couldn’t imagine why. “Good morning everyone,” he smiled, “Who died?”

Silva’s shoulders slumped. “No-one, just our chances of ever playing for La Roja ever again!” he exclaimed desperately.

Villa patted his boyfriend on the back empathetically. “Ish okay babe.” That statement was met by more than one dubious mumble.

Xabi looked downright depressed. “What damage was done to you and/or your relationship status?”

Alvaro frowned. “None. I’m fine. Actually, I don’t know why you are all acting so pissy. Last night was sick!” he remembered with a smile.

Everyone at the table stopped what they were doing and turned to glare at the Madridista. What the hell was he talking about? “Last night was not amazing! Well it’s not like any of us can actually remember much but all signs say that it was the furthest thing from ‘sick’ you can get! Well in another sense of the word maybe...” Piqué said indignantly. He had a tattoo that said ‘I shag Shakira’ for God’s sake! What kind of sick bastard would tattoo that on someone that was drunk off their head (he was pretty sure that there was a law against that). How could it get any worse?

Something occurred to Xavi. “Wait, wait, wait... How do you even remember how ‘sick’ last night was?” he asked suspiciously and the rest of the team listened intently for the answer. The atmosphere was getting more tangible by the moment.

“Because I only had two drinks last night. Unlike the rest of you,” the defender replied as if it was a stupid question.

Jordi furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit slow this morning... It’s so funny; for a moment there I thought you said that you were completely in your right mind when all of this was going down last night,” the Barcelona defender accused, daring his compatriot to say otherwise.

“That’s what I said,” he didn’t miss a beat.

The whole table fell silent and not in a good way. No, it was more like ‘give him ten seconds to run before we beat him to death’ silence.

Villa clenched his jaw. “I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.” He growled before leaping from his seat and in the direction of an unprepared Alvaro. Xavi and Iniesta immediately grabbed a hold of him, not wanting any more trouble than there already was. Villa struggled against them and Alvaro sheepishly moved away. Mata returned from the bathroom and the latter smiled at him.

“Kudos for last night, hombre! The bus was a really good idea.”

Juan paled. “W-what? I graffitied the bus?” the pitch of his voice rose in horror.

The Madridista nodded. “Yup. You and Jordi.”

“I am going to kill you two!” Xavi said venomously .

Xabi stood immediately. He had a feeling that more trouble was on the cards and wanted to diffuse the situation. “Okay, everybody calm down,” he said in his best authoritative voice, “Seriously, we’re not going to figure anything out if we’re all at each other’s throats.” The midfielder really wished Iker was there. He would probably know what to do in this situation... Actually, no. This time the captain would be the first one to take a swing...

Everyone listed to Xabi’s wise words... for a minute before erupting in arguments once again, this time even more vicious.

The Real midfielder sank down in his chair with a sigh and pulled out his phone. He needed back-up.

 

Fernando and Cesc immediately left the room after Xabi’s call. They got the elevator to the floor below to enlist the help of Sergio and Iker but, when the doors opened, their team-mates were already standing there.

Sergio arched an eyebrow as they got in. “Got a call from Xabi?”

“Yeah. He sounded pretty desperate...”

Meanwhile, Iker awkwardly stood next to Cesc. “Hi,” he said with a smile like a kid with his first crush.

Cesc couldn’t help but smile. “Hey.”

Sergio and Fernando observed proudly and knuckle touched. “God, we are so good,” Sergio said lowly so as not to disturb the Fabsillas moment.

His boyfriend couldn’t have agreed more. “Maybe a change in career is coming? Sernando Matchmakers,” he offered with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry; we’ve got plenty of time for that when we retire.”

“Iker I...” Cesc began, blushing.

The captain was always amazed by how cute the younger man was. He knew how shy Cesc could be sometimes so Iker decided to take it upon himself. He was just about to lean in when a ‘bing’ sounded and the doors open. He couldn’t mask the disappointment on his face as they were forced to exit the elevator.

The Barcelona midfielder’s heart was beating hard and fast. Iker had definitely been about to kiss him! Damn the stupid elevator. Couldn’t it have at least had the decency to wait a few more seconds? Or even break down? There was plenty of time for kissing later, however, so Cesc just settled for a quick and discreet squeeze of his husband’s hand. There was a strong urge not to let go.

Iker looked at the younger man in pleasant surprise. He squeezed back and gently bumped shoulders with the midfielder. That was enough for now.

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw when they entered the restaurant again. A ruckus was the only way to describe it. Their team-mates were all arguing and a few (Xavi and Villa) had to be restrained. Alvaro was hiding behind Xabi, who they had never seen look so frantic. Thank god their table was a bit away from all of the other diners in an alcove of sorts because this was downright embarrassing.

Iker rolled his eyes. He couldn’t leave them alone for fifteen minutes without World War III breaking out. Cesc subconsciously moved closer to his husband’s side, horrified by the sight before him. Sergio and Fernando were just confused and wondering what happened after they had left.

“What the hell is going on here?” Iker demanded in his best captain’s voice.

They all stopped and turned to look at him. “ _Alvaro_ ,” said a very crazed looking Xavi, obviously too caught up in the madness to make any sense.

Xabi decided to take this one. He wanted to put it as delicately as possible so he wouldn’t have to restrain his captain too. “What Xavi is trying to say is, and don’t get worked up,” he warned, “that Alvaro only had two drinks last night, and therefore was not drunk...”

All emotion vanished from Iker’s face. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

Alvaro cowered. “Please don’t hit me... I have a present for you,” he added with a wary smile and removed an envelope from his pocket. He handed it to his Madrid and Spain captain.

Iker was too annoyed to even look at it. “What is this?”

“It’s your marriage certificate. Congratulations!”

Another silence overcame them all and it seemed like a tumble weed was going to blow by at any moment. The captain didn’t even know how to feel about this. He contemplated how he should react for a prolonged moment.

“He’s going to hit him,” Jordi commented.

At that Cesc grabbed a hold of his husband’s arm. There wasn’t going to be any more hitting on his watch. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Iker couldn’t even fathom it. What a moron! “Seriously! How could you think all of this was a good idea? I mean the bus, Piqué’s tattoo-“

“Well I wasn’t actually there for that one-“

“Silva’s dick is skewered for fuck sake!”

“It’s not actually that bad,” Silva added for all it was worth.

“Don’t forget the part about you and Cesc being married,” Llorente offered and Iker just shot him a glare.

“What the hell is going on here?” They all turned to see Ricardo, the assistant coach looking quite bewildered.

Shit. “We can explain,” Iker quickly told him.

“Okay. Then why don’t you explain why no-one can find the gaffer!”


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alvaró is and idiot and del Bosque is found.

_“Okay. Then why don’t you explain why no-one can find the gaffer!”_

Silence overwhelmed the table again. But it was a different type of silence. They knew that they were in for it. This was bad; very, very bad. Their manager was missing; things had officially gone beyond the joke. Sure a few piercings, a tattoo and even a marriage was one thing, but a person was missing- the person who decided all of their fates.

To put it plainly, they were fucked.

Iker immediately turned to Alvaro. “Where is he?” the captain asked through clenched teeth.

Alvaro proceeded to look at his watch. “Oh look, if we leave now we can make it on time.”

“Make it where?” Gerard asked warily.

His answer was a low mumble that no-one could decipher.

Sergio glared at his fellow defender. “Come again?”

“To the hospital,” he replied sheepishly.

 _Hospital_. This just kept getting worse. Vicente del Bosque was in the hospital; and they were all going to lose their jobs. “The hospital?” Ricardo sounded like he was going to have a stroke. “What the fuck is he doing in the hospital?”

“Yes, Alvaro, what  _is_ del Bosque doing in the hospital?” Iker demanded.

“How did he even end up with us?” Andres added.

Alvaro shook his head. “No, I’m not saying until we get to the hospital because you’re just going to freak out and it really isn’t  _that_ bad. It definitely could be worse.”

The captain was about to threaten his fellow Madridista with violence but decided against it. They were running out of time and they needed to get to hospital and get their gaffer back. The team was supposed to be flying out in a couple of hours. Iker sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” he turned to their assistant manager, “Ricardo, I am so sorry about this. We’ll fix it. Everything will be fine in a while...”  _Hopefully_.

“Oh you better fix it. Until Vincente is back here, I don’t want to know. I didn’t see any of this,” Ricardo warned and reluctantly walked away.

“So who’s going to the hospital?” Xavi asked, curiously.

Iker glared at Alvaro. “Well the biggest idiot in Spain has to go because he’s the only one who remembers anything from last night, I’m the captain so I should go...”

“I want to go too, Iker,” Cesc piped up.

There were several sniggers. “Of course you do, Cesc,” Jordi teased and both Cesc and Iker glared at him.

“Okay, Cesc is coming. Fernando, I think it would be a good idea if you come too. You know, so you can ask about your face. You might need to see a plastic surgeon when we get back to Spain...”

Fernando groaned and Sergio patted his boyfriend on the back. “It’s okay babe. We’ll get rid of the scar.”

“If we can,” the blond sulked.

“You’ll still be the best looking player at Chelsea,” Sergio assured him.

“Hey!” Juan protested and the Sevillian shot him an apologetic look.

Iker rolled his eyes. “Well as much as I’d love to stand around and chat all day, I have a manager to collect- probably a very pissed and injured manager- so, Cesc, Alvaro and Fernando, let’s get going."

“How are we going to get there?” the Barcelona midfielder wondered.

His husband shrugged. “By cab I guess. We really don’t need to get lost.”

“I have a wonderful sense of direction,” Cesc argued.

Iker arched an eyebrow, unable to help a fragment of a smile forming on his lips. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Cesc, but that is the biggest lie I have ever heard. You still get lost in Barcelona!” The younger man just stuck out his tongue. “Right, we’re going. Everyone else just go to your rooms and pack and, for the love of God, try not to get into any more trouble. I’ll text with details when we get back.”  
  


“Are you sure this is the right one?” Iker asked when they arrived, not having any margin for error today.

Alvaro glared at him. “Yes, I’m positive. Oh, look! There’s Andrea!” his face lit up when he spotted a nurse in pale blue scrubs. “She was here last night.”

“Hi Alvaro,” the pretty blond nurse greeted him with a smile and turned to Cesc and Iker. “Congratulations again.”

Cesc blushed. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re here to collect Vicente?” They all nodded. “Cool, he’s doing well. I’ll just get Dr. Donovan to talk to you and then we can discharge him,” she said helpfully before going in search of the doctor.

Fernando, Cesc and Iker breathed a sigh of complete relief. “Okay, so at least it’s nothing serious,” the Chelsea striker commented.

“Yeah. You’re lucky,” the captain glared at Alvaro.

He held up his hands. “Hey, I already knew he was okay!”

“But you didn’t tell us that! Did you?”

Cesc placed his hand on Iker’s forearm and the latter relaxed slightly. “Okay let’s not fight over this here. This is a hospital. There are sick people who don’t need to hear about our problems too.”

Fernando and Iker stared at the younger man in surprise. Cesc was such a sweetheart. Neither knew anyone like him. “You’re right.”

They didn’t get to say anymore because Andrea brought the doctor to meet them. “Oh great, you’re back,” Dr. Donovan said in a less than enthused tone. They honestly couldn’t blame him. Who knows what they did when they were there last night.

“Yeah, about that... I just want to apologise for anything we may have done last night. I have no idea what came over us,” Iker apologised profusely.

The middle aged doctor pursed his lips. “I see guys like you every night. Las Vegas ERs are probably the hardest in America to work in because everyone who comes in here is either drunk off their face or high. Next time, be more careful.”

“Oh, there won’t be a next time. Trust me,” Fernando assured him.

“Yes, well, you got here just in time. Mr. Del Bosque was trying to discharge himself but I tried to stall for obvious reasons...”

Iker frowned. “Obvious reasons?”

Dr. Donovan frowned and looked between the three of them. “Follow me...” he said before leading them down the corridor. Iker nervously took Cesc’s hand.

They all stopped in their tracks when they saw their manager in his hospital room. This really wasn’t good. “Well shit,” Fernando said plainly.

Vicente looked up and when he saw his subordinates began angrily wheeling himself towards them. “You! You got me into this mess and left me here all night!” His leg encased in a cast from his ankle to his thigh.

“I know and we’re really sorry about that. None of us even remembered anything that happened last night,” Cesc said sincerely.

The manager scowled. “Just get me back to the hotel. We’ll talk about this later.” Fernando fought the urge to answer with ‘Yes, dad’.

“Let me have a look at your jaw,” the doctor said and Fernando adjusted his neck to give him a better view. “Hmm, well that looks like it’s going to heal up pretty well. The scar will be pretty small but you may want to consult a plastic surgeon if you’re worried about it.”

“Thanks doc.”

Dr. Donovan just nodded in reply. “So let’s get you discharged Mr. del Bosque...”

The three decided to walk back to the hotel as it would have been pretty awkward trying to get their boss into the back of a cab. Thankfully the hotel wasn’t that far away. Iker was going to make Alvaro push the wheelchair but he ultimately decided that was a disaster waiting to happen. He didn't trust his team-mate with their manager. “How are you feeling, boss?” Cesc asked timidly. He was met by stony silence. “You know we’re really sorry about this-“

“Shut up Fabregas.”

“Shutting up.”


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabsillas have some contemplating to do...

Unsurprisingly, not a single member of the team was to be found when Iker, Cesc, Nando and Alvaro, accompanied by del Bosque, returned to the hotel. Iker grimaced.  _Cowards, the lot of them._ The only person actually around was Riccardo, whose blood pressure appeared to be alarmingly high. The assistant coach was pacing the lobby when they arrived back. His expression was torn between one of delight and complete horror as Cesc wheeled their manager through the door.   
  
“Oh thank god ! I was just about to call the police! What the fuck did they do to you?”  
  
All the players listened intently but warily for an answer to that. Except Alvaro because he already knew. “The nurse told me I was dancing on the bar and fell off.”  
  
There was complete silence for a moment as they all took in what they had just heard. Iker rubbed his face wearily and Riccardo looked like he was about to have an aneurism. “What the hell is the matter with you? For christ’s sake, you’re adults! More than that, you’re professionals! There is going to be a serious meeting about this when we get back to Spain. That is if it’s not already plastered over all of the newspapers!”  
  
All four footballers (even del Bosque) were taken completely aback by the outburst from the usually calm assistant coach. Fernando flinched. Alvaro went pale. Cesc’s bottom lip began to quiver and Iker placed his hand firmly on his husband’s forearm.   
  
“That’s understandable. The way we behaved is inexcusable. We’ll take whatever punishment you all see fit,” the captain informed them, still unable to believe that they had actually gone so off the rails. Of course he was appalled by their behaviour but something stopped him from regretting it completely.   
  
Del Bosque frowned. “Personally, I just want to forget about this whole thing and get away from all you idiots as soon as possible. None of this ever happened, understand? We never speak of this again,” he warned them in a hushed, yet completely serious tone.   
  
The four footballers nodded emphatically in agreement. That was probably a very good idea.   
  
Riccardo sighed, knowing the boss’ word was law. “Just get all your shit together and let’s get out of this god-forsaken town before anything else happens.”  
  
They didn’t need to be told again. Cesc apologised profusely once again before leaving the wheelchair, and by extension the manager, in the assistant coach’s capable hands. After that they all swiftly made their way to the elevators, not wanting to spend another minute under Riccardo’s very unamused gaze. Cesc pressed the button a couple of times until there was a ‘bing’ and the doors opened. The people already inside the lift dismounted and Iker walked in.  
  
“Nino, will you take the next one with this idiot?” the captain asked, the tone of his voice hopefully conveying the reasoning behind his words to the Chelsea striker.   
  
Cesc’s jaw dropped for a moment before he realised that Iker was talking about Alvaro and not in fact him. The Catalan shuffled into the elevator next to his husband.   
  
Fernando nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “Sure thing, captain. See you in a while.”  
  
Iker gave him a grateful smile before the doors quickly shut, leaving him alone with the midfielder for the first time since earlier that morning. Cesc turned around and opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance. Iker’s lips crashed down on top of his, just applying pressure at first to see how the younger man responded. The midfielder’s heart started thumping and his eyes were almost forced shut. Without his permission, Cesc’s lips began to move slowly and purposely against his captain’s.   
  
Before the kiss got the chance to escalate any further, they were quickly broken apart by the doors opening onto Iker’s floor. “Come to my room?” the older man asked quietly.  
  
Cesc blushed violently for a moment and it never occurred to Iker that he could take it like  _that_. A look of horror quickly crossed his face. “No, no! I didn’t mean for  _that_. Just to talk. Because I think we really need to talk.”  
  
The midfielder’s mouth made a little ‘o’ shape. “Right. Yeah, we do need to talk.” Cesc stepped out of the elevator and Iker smiled reassuringly at him, lacing their fingers together as they walked down the corridor towards the captain’s room. When they reached the correct door, memories from the previous night (or at least the state they were in that morning) slowly creeping back.   
  
Iker let go of his husband’s hand to fish the key from his pocket. While he was occupied with opening the door, Cesc turned around quickly and did a small little jittery dance before turning around and acting like he hadn’t moved from his position. Iker arched an eyebrow but let it go, gesturing for the younger man to go ahead. Cesc gave him a smile and made his way into the room, his heart beating violently all the while.  _He kissed me. And he’s smiling. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? I hope it is._  
  
The sound of the fire door of the room shutting with a low thud was almost deafening with the silence that had overcome the room. Iker took a deep breath and turned to face the younger man once again, hoping that his words wouldn’t fail him. They didn’t. “First of all, I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?”  
  
Cesc bit his head and nodded his approval, waiting for the older man to act. Iker didn’t disappoint. Soon their lips were joined together once again, moving with a lot more intent than the kiss in the elevator. Cesc’s fingers grabbed the collar of Iker’s shirt and Iker’s ended up wound up in the younger man’s hair. If the room didn’t bring back memories of the previous night, that kiss certainly did. But the memories that came back weren’t ones that took place in the hotel.   
  
 _“I can’t believe we’re actually going to do this,” Cesc giggled, slurring his words slightly, and glanced over at Sergio and Fernando who were sending them reassuring smiles and thumbs up._  
  
 _Iker grinned. “Neither can I! It just feels right though, doesn’t it? I’m absolutely crazy about you, Cesc. I can’t believe I haven’t told you until now. I’ve wasted so much time.”_  
  
 _“Me too but we’re not wasting any more time.”_  
  
 _“No we’re not.”_  
  
Cesc broke away from the man who was now his husband with an expression of pure shock. “What, Cesc? What’s wrong?” Iker wondered, very alarmed now. He suddenly felt like someone punched him in the stomach.  _You’ve changed your mind. You’ve finally realised how big this is._  
  
“I- I just remembered something from last night.”  
  
“What?! What did you remember?”  
  
“Part of the wedding. Sergio and Fernando were there. I think the whole thing was their idea. I said ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this’ and you said ‘Neither can I’ and ‘It just feels right’ and ‘We’ve wasted so much time’…”  
  
The captain contemplated that for a moment. Maybe drunk Iker was still a little bit sensible? He was still completely floored by the fact that Cesc could actually remember something. He would kill to be able to do that. Maybe when things weren’t so hectic it would start coming back? He sighed. “Maybe we should have that talk now?”  
  
The Catalan nodded and swallowed hard. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”  
  
They both sat down on the bed, remaining silent for the better part of thirty seconds. The weight of what they were about to decide was heavy on their shoulders as both contemplated what they should say. Iker, being the natural leader that he was, decided to take initiative. “Look, there’s no point in pretending that this is going to be easy; it’s going to be the furthest thing from easy. But it’s not impossible, which is the main thing, right? Anything short of downright impossible is worth a try, isn’t it?” Cesc smiled softly at him and he accepted that as an answer. “I know this may be- no, scratch that, this  _definitely_  is the most insane thing I’ve ever done in my life but I’m not afraid. I probably should be but I’m just… not. And that pretty much tells me all I need to know. The distance between Madrid and Barcelona really isn’t that great. And, should you decide that you look better in white that blue and yellow, the distance will be non-existent,” Iker added, the cheeky smile that accompanied making Cesc a bit weak at the knees but he would stand his ground nonetheless.  
  
“Pff, dream on…”   
  
“Then yeah, Barcelona and Madrid really aren’t that far apart. But that’s my opinion, what do you think?”  
  
That’s the million euro question… Letting out a whoosh of air, Cesc fidgeted with his sleeves for a moment before gaining composure and meeting his captain’s eyes. “I’m willing to give it a try. I’m  _more_  than willing to give it a try. While I agree that it is insane and that the press and fans would have a field day if they found out, I’m willing to take the chance. Because…” he paused for a moment, cheeks turning a very endearing shade of pink, “Because I think that this has the potential to be amazing- I think it _will_ be amazing- and that’s makes it worth it. So I’m more than happy to be Cesc Fabregas, husband of Iker Casillas or Cesc Fabregas-Casillas or Fabsillas or whatever.”   
  
Iker chuckled, shaking his head to himself. “Fernando tried that one on you too?”  
  
“Fabsillas? I kinda like it, it’s got a certain ring to it,” Cesc joked, suddenly feeling a lot more at ease. If that was the only part of what he had just said that was worth questioning.  
  
Taking a deep breath, the captain prepared to ask the fateful question. “So we’re going to do this?”  
  
“We’re going to do this,” Cesc affirmed, smile growing so that it almost cut his face in half. Apparently that was all the older man needed to hear as within seconds his lips were pressed against the midfielder’s once again, moving slowly and meaningfully.   
  
“That’s all I wanted to hear.”


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to leave town

There were quite a few heads hanging in shame as the team gathered in the lobby of the hotel with their bags and gear, preparing to get the bus to the airport. That was especially true in the case of Alvaro who couldn’t look anyone in the eye for fear of being physically beaten by his team mates. Riccardo was the last to show, wheeling del Bosque out of the elevator, not stopping to even look at the players before steering the manager outside to the bus.   
  
Everyone followed close behind, wanting to be on their best behaviour so as to limit as much as possible the chances of being permanently banned from the team. Usually, the bus rides were a noisy affair; players joking and conversing and in some cases singing (Sergio) but this time the silence was practically deafening. Whether that was because they were all too afraid of putting a foot out of line or everyone was just too hung over to do anything but sleep was another question.   
  
Iker, being the captain, sat near the front of the bus just behind the medics with Cesc by his side. They remained comfortably silent- well, in the mental sense, the midfielder found it a struggle to sit down which amused Iker to no end. While Cesc did see the funny side of it, his husband earned a sharp elbow in the ribs and stuck out tongue. He could laugh when he was in the same position, the younger of the two thought.   
  
A couple of minutes into the journey, the captain received a tap on the shoulder from whoever was sitting behind them and turned around to see a desperate and exhausted looking Gerard Piqué.  
  
“Do  _either_ of you know a good place for tattoo removals? I’m desperate! I can’t go home to my mother like this…”   
  
Unfortunately, neither were able to help him in his quest so the defender dejectedly began a round of the bus.   
“I feel sorry for the poor guy. I’d much rather end up married than inappropriately tattooed,” Cesc commented, absentmindedly resting his head on his husband’s chest.   
Iker marvelled at the normality of it all, how their relationship could take such a turn so quickly and not make things unbearably awkward. “I agree. I’d much rather be drunkenly married any day.”   
“Pff, well hopefully it will only happen once!”  
“Hopefully,” the captain agreed, softly placing a kiss on the top of Cesc’s head.   
  
Sergio and Fernando, who sat a row behind on the opposite side to them, practically preened at the sight of the latest La Roja couple, feeling like proud parents. “We did that,” the former, now sporting a properly done haircut, declared proudly.   
“Yes, we did.”   
  
They had to admit, despite the misfortune that had somehow found them all during their stay in Vegas, the Spanish team had to look amusing to anyone who hadn’t a clue what had just happened. There they were, lined up on the pitch awaiting the anthems like a group of men who had just returned from war. Mainly Fernando, his facial injury seemed to give the newspapers a lot to talk about, as did the newly wheelchair bound del Bosque. The funny thing was, the most drastic changes were invisible to the spectator: the marriage (except for the ring that was conveniently hidden under Iker’s gloves), Piqué’s tattoo, the Davids’ piercings, Xabi’s shame…   
  
At least something good seemed to come of the whole ordeal… Spain won 4-0 away to Argentina, which was really something that didn’t happen often. Everyone put it down to the fact that winning the match was  _vital_ to their chances of remaining on the team once they returned to their country. The first came from, unsurprisingly, a newly inspired Cesc followed by two from Fernando and once from Xavi.   
  
Maybe, they thought, a weekend of debauchery in Las Vegas wasn’t such a bad thing…


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes to an end

Another season, another Clasico. This time they first meet at the Bernebéu. It’s the match both teams prepare for weeks in advance because it’s so much more than a win, loss or draw; their pride is on the line. For Cesc and Iker, however, the battles between the two teams cannot come often enough. Even though neither want to lose, it’s still an extra chance to see each other which is really the most important thing. Their marriage has been difficult, but neither Iker nor Cesc would change a thing.   
  
The atmosphere in the Madrid stadium is electric as both teams line up, anxiously awaiting the kick off. Sergio ( _discretely_ ) nudges his captain as smiles all too knowingly as they’re about to shake hands with the opposition. Iker rolls his eyes but is secretly just as excited as his co-captain. Removing his gloves, he smiles at the sight of the ever present gold band on his ring finger. He always wears it during matches. Actually, he only really ever takes it off when he absolutely has to.   
  
Iker shakes hands with Puyol, Messi, Xavi and Andres before finally reaching the person he is most looking forward to seeing. His slightly forced smile becomes one hundred percent real and his heart (embarrassingly) begins to flutter at the sight of the Barcelona midfielder despite only having a couple of seconds together, each taking longer than strictly necessary to shake hands.   
  
“Good look Fabregas,” the goal keeper says to his husband with fake non-chalance.   
  
Cesc smiles wryly back at him. “You too, Casillas,” was all he said before moving on to Sergio.   
  
“Remember that you probably shouldn’t score in this match… for everyone’s sake!” the Sevillian teased.   
  
“Pff, you should be so lucky, Ramos.”  
  
They didn’t hold back, that wasn’t their thing. Whenever Madrid and Barca played, both Iker and Cesc tried even harder than usual to win.  If Cesc had a shot on goal, Iker would attempt to stop it without a second’s hesitation. Likewise, if Cesc thought he could get one past the Real goalkeeper, he always took the chance.   
  
The match ended 3-2 to Iker’s Madrid. The Barcelona midfielder had six shots on goal and Iker saved all but one of them.   
When the final whistle blew, both teams shook hands again. Cesc sought his husband out with a smile on his face although Iker could see that it was tinged with disappointment. “Congratulations. You deserved to win.”   
  
“Thanks,” the older of the two beamed, “You played really well. Swap shirts?”  
  
Giving a dramatic roll of his eyes, Cesc pulled at the hem of his jersey. “Of course!” That was something they did too; at the end of every match they played against each other, they would swap shirts. Iker removed his gloves and handed them to his husband to hold while he quickly pulled the Madrid top over his head. Not only did they swap, they also immediately put on each other’s jerseys so that Cesc was wearing the number 1 and Iker the number 4.   
  
Villa rolled his eyes as he approached the couple. “Are you guys going to do that every time we play?”  
  
“Yes,” Fabsillas, as they were so affectionately known thanks to Sergio and Fernando, replied simultaneously.   
  
“The fans are really going to love you wearing your rivals’ jersey. You should know better, Iker. I never thought I’d see the day where the Iker Casillas would wear a Barca shirt without threat of death or serious bodily injury.”   
  
“Be quiet, Villa,” they once again replied at the same time, which earned them a famous David Villa bitchface.   
  
“Casillas!” Mourinho called his captain and disapprovingly thrust a Real windcheater at him. “Interview, now. And put that on, you’re not going on television wearing  _that_.”  
  
Iker did as he was told, only zipping it to a certain point that the yellow 4 was clearly visible. “I guess I’ve got to go… Are you coming over tonight?”  
  
“Of course, mi amor. What kind of question is that?”  
  
The goalkeeper couldn’t help but smile at the stupid grin on his husband’s face. “I can’t wait. Neither can Lola for that matter. She misses you.”  
  
“I brought one of those big dog bones for her. Only Catalunya’s finest for my girl.”   
  
“She’ll love that. Oh, by the way, I’m sending you a bill for all the furniture that she’s destroyed.”  
  
Cesc burst out laughing at the picture he had in his head of the ever serious Iker Casillas trying to give out to their beagle puppy in his captainly way. “How about I make it up to you tonight?”  
  
“… I’ll consider it.” 


End file.
